


Soulsunder

by KellerProcess



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU of Thor with elements of Ragnorok, Anal Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Gaslighting, I'm tagging either way just to be safe, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Intersex Loki aka Jotuns don't have genitals that behave like humans', M/M, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Sort Of, Virgin Loki, eventual Thor/Loki endgame, lots of dark things in this fic use caution please, more sex tags to be added, nonbinary Loki, sort of you'll see, to the point that some may qualify as noncon, very brief gender dysphoria
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 01:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13202793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellerProcess/pseuds/KellerProcess
Summary: AU set after the first Thor movie with a few retold elements of Ragnorok thrown in. A woman claiming to be an ex-Ravager rescues Loki from a freefall through space in order to use him for a sinister purpose. He is, however, far too beautiful to destroy completely. Thor, meanwhile, can’t accept that his brother is dead, all while realizing that his feelings for Loki have not been just brotherly for quite some time.





	1. Chapter 1

It didn’t really matter what way he went. All ways led to down.

So Loki looked into his father’s eye and let go of the spear—the only thing keeping him from tumbling into the abyss through which the waters of Asgard churned.

Gravity—perhaps the only consistent force throughout the nine worlds—did all the rest.

Five hundred feet down, and Thor was still screaming his name.

By then, turning away was just one more choice that wasn’t his to make.


	2. Chapter 2

_Well. I guess Jotuns can breathe in the void. The more you know._

It wasn’t funny. In fact, it was possibly the least funny thought he’d had in centuries. But it was also the first coherent one as he plummeted—

_Or am I falling to the side? Or upwards? Surely I can’t be falling backwards._

And perhaps that alone sent him into hysterics.

_Falling. Backwards. Oh dear oh dear._

It wasn’t funny at all, but he laughed so hard his sides twinged— _Apparently that is also possible in the void. Hm._ —into a full-blown ache. He tried to wrap his arms around them, but—

_Oh shit. Where did my arms go?_

The fact he couldn’t feel them only made him laugh harder.

_My entire life has gone to hell and my atoms are being torn apart and put back together.  
Hilarious, really._

And it was. 

_To think, I could have saved myself_ so _much trouble by merely jumping off the Bifrost centuries ago._

And wasn’t that the most sidesplitting thought of all?

Loki cackled until the laughter was sucked out of his mouth and poured out of his eyes instead. Maybe it was his atoms being shaken and stirred like a martini—and this set him off again—but somehow the action just made sense. 

_Far better to die laughing than sobbing, right?_

Finally his throat felt sore and swollen, and the laughter had melted through him like chocolate, so much so that the image of his body melting like a Hershey’s bar barely produced a snicker.

_Oh, the things you think when you are dying._

_Or maybe when you’re already dead._

Blue light flared around him like a supernova, and Loki’s final thoughts were: _My, but death is bright._

_And soft. Incredibly soft._


	3. Chapter 3

Ever since that landing on Giuledi Prime, the _Hypernicum_ ’s interior had taken on a slight jaundiced cast that Plot Zircona didn’t care for—if you could call orange jaundiced, that was. It wasn’t much, mind you, and if she hadn’t been the clan’s sensitive, Plot was sure even she would have missed it. But the damn color had leeched into everything. Subtly, though; the vessel’s interior had always favored both the coolest and hottest of blues, and not just to complement her captain’s scarlet good looks. Now, however, everything had a slight cast of gray, or even gunmetal, as human’s like Jemp might call it—a patina that could only be blamed on orange. 

“Plot.” Captain Reva Raskarian’s voice had that grating growl it took on when she didn’t want to repeat herself and had already had to. Plot snapped forward and pivoted in the nav-chair at the console.

“Ma’am?” she said, remembering at the last possible second not to offer a Ravagers’ salute. They weren’t Ravagers anymore, and while Raskarian didn’t care, she also didn’t like the reminder.

“ _Is _the cargo safely delivered, or do I have to do everything myself?”__

__Plot pressed one dull cuspid against her tongue and thought of red things. How Raskarian’s features had paled to crimson of late, honeying the once-ochre geometric bone ridges of her face and igniting her falls of falcon-brown curls into a subtle copper._ _

___Something is terribly wrong here._ If she could just figure what._ _

__“Yes, ma’am,” she said anyway. “The J—uh, cargo is just where you requested.”_ _

__If only Jarl knew what they were using his old quarters for. Not that he needed them anymore, but…well, he wouldn’t have approved._ _

__He wouldn’t have approved of anything they’d done after Giuledi Prime._ _

__Maybe she just needed a vacation. Hell, maybe they all did. Losing a beloved clan member was always a trip, and when he wasn’t just some schlub but Raskarian’s second— _well_._ _

__Some days, Plot felt like she was losing her mind. And Raskarian’s current scheme wasn’t helping any._ _

___Can loss make you start to obsess over a color?_ _ _

__A grating huff knocked her out of her reverie a second time, and she looked up and up and up into her captain’s brown eyes ( _Yes. They definitely look more copper today. I can’t just be imagining that, can I?_ )_ _

__“Plot.” Raskarian let out a sigh, as if she were gathering patience to instruct—not scold—a favored pupil. “As trite as it is to say, I know how you feel.”  
Plot should have winced. It _was_ a trite thing to say. But the steel blade of Raskarian’s voice lacked serration—more of a butter knife now—which meant she was being sincere. Sympathetic. Not easy things for someone who had once been one of the most feared and notorious Ravagers in the galaxy._ _

___Until Giuledi Prime._ _ _

__“He may not have been my brother, but a second-in-command is a lot like one. And we have to carry on now, as best we can. Especially if you’re going to take his place.”_ _

__Plot nodded vigorously, all her concern sluicing from her just like that. “It doesn’t do,” she agreed, “a captain having no second.”_ _

__Raskarian nodded once in return, her shining, wide curls shifting and bobbing as if troubled by a breeze. “And if we don’t carry this off perfectly—if your head isn’t fully on your shoulders—we won’t get you to where you need to be to do that.”_ _

__“No,” Plot agreed with a sigh. Jevilians came into their prime at a full forty cycles of their dual suns, and Plot had lived for just nineteen of them. She had much to make up for before assuming Jarl’s duties—and not much time in which to do it. Raskarian both insisted she could not go without a second for much longer and that none of their clan but Jarl’s little sister could fill the role._ _

__Raskarian inclined her head and stepped back. “All right, then. I’m going to go see about our cargo. Jemp, can you keep things in line around here until I’m back?”_ _

__From over by the communications array, the human pursed her lips and shrugged, but it didn’t matter. Raskarian had strode from the bridge before she could utter as much as “Mh-hm.”_ _

__“What?” Plot asked with a frown when Jemp rolled her brown eyes so far back, they flashed white._ _

__“Oh, nothing,” Jemp said, flipping the back of her dark hand over her shoulder as she returned to her repairs. “I love babysitting the boss’s favorite. It’s fun. You should try it sometime. Oh.” She gasped and turned, putting a hand to her chest. “That’s right. Even babysitting is a stretch for you.”_ _

__The breath that escaped Plot came out less like a sigh and more like the air from a punctured tire. Cold blasted across her face before embarrassment warmed it. Why was it that the only person she really wanted to impress found her, well, less than impressive 120 percent of the time, and the rest of it she was just downright annoyed with Plot?  
“It was one time,” she protested weakly, “and I didn’t know the kid could teleport through—”_ _

__Jemp waved her off with a roll of a shoulder, telling Plot that wasn’t the point. “Just go back to monitoring that wormhole. If something else comes through it after that Jotun and we don’t tell her immediately, she’ll be looking for both our replacements.”_ _

__Plot frowned. “What would be coming after him?”_ _

__Jemp sighed and went back to her repairs without answer._ _

__“Jemp? What would be coming after him?”_ _

__“The fact she hasn’t bothered to tell you even that,” Jemp muttered, “should be all the info you need about whether or not you can really do this job.”  
Plot could actually feel the embarrassment crash though her stomach like an out-of-control elevator. “Oh,” she said. “Uh…well. Uh.”_ _

__When Jemp didn’t even dignify that with a grunt, Plot went back to monitoring the array of lights and schematics on the display before her—which, if anything, seemed an even grayer blue than it had this morning._ _

___What is wrong with me?_ _ _


	4. Chapter 4

Blue. Pulsing. Cool.

Loki had been staring at the undulating ceiling for what felt like hours now—if “hours” and “ceiling” could even apply here. Nothing since he’d let go of that staff had made much sense. But the dome above him had a vague organic look, like someone had frosted the inside of a snail’s shell and hung the stars just behind it. They poured out like blood from a slashed artery, just as they did in the night sky in Asgard.

He couldn’t be in Asgard, though. Unless the past few days had all been some horrible nightmare. A possibility. He got those often. And he was usually this cold during them. 

_How in the nine realms can a Frost Giant be this cold?_

He’d never been to Niffleheim. As far as he knew, no one had who’d lived to tell the story. Perhaps it was blue and cold and pulsated around one like something living, something _breathing_.

 _Or maybe this is the place you go when the void scatters you to the nine worlds._ Another thought occurred. _I wonder if I have arms again._

Loki’s right tricep tensed and something that certainly felt like an arm raised. It jittered— _Probably a little angry at being torn apart and rearranged._ —then lifted from the soft surface it apparently had been resting on.

_Soft?_

Loki forgot all about that, though, when his hand drifted in front of his eyes. He frowned as he curled and uncurled his long fingers toward the undulating ceiling. 

_No._

Loki flexed his blue fingers, turning his wrist back and forth. It had to be the light. It had to—

The pale ridges spiraling up his arm and hand like lines of frost told him otherwise, though.

“I take it back,” Loki said with a sigh, pressing his head against the softness beneath it. “The void would have been much better than this.” 

“You’re ashamed. Why?”

Loki’s head pivoted to the left so fast, stars that had nothing to do with the ones above crackled across his vision. 

The rest of the room glowed the same electric blue, the color made even brighter from white walls and minimal white furniture, all of it with the same round, organic contours as the ceiling above. The woman reclining on the kidney-shaped chaise longue burned against it like a single, thin flame. Her skin was a bright crimson, somewhere between fresh blood and salamander, save for the ridges of bone that wound up the sides of her face and sparked out into a labyrinth upon her forehead. These pulsed a bright orange—no. Loki blinked to clear his vision. Odd. He had thought they did, at least. And they reminded him of something, but he wasn’t sure just what. Her eyes were brown, as far as he could tell, but even they seemed to flicker with heat.

Even though she was sitting, Loki could tell she was far taller even than Thor. Her legs were thin, elegant and angular as the rest of her features, save for the firm but curvaceous hips and the large breasts that strained against her nondescript black jumpsuit. 

Loki turned his gaze away, not wanting to stare at them too long, lest she get the wrong idea.

“Hmm,” the woman said. “I’m flattered, but you still haven’t answered my question. Not that I think you have anything to be ashamed of, with a body like that.”

What was she talking about? Loki glanced down at himself, expecting to see his usual black-and-green outfit. Instead, he saw only bare blue skin veined by silver geometric frost. Unable to suppress a gasp, Loki slapped an arm across his chest and cupped his genitals before squeezing his thigh around his wrist and tilting his hips away from that piercing gaze.

The woman chuckled and glided up from her seat. “Oh, I’ve already seen it all, Jotun. For several minutes, actually, while you stared up at the stars.” She frowned. “And it’s quite fetching too. You really should show off more.”

“Everyone’s entitled to their opinion,” Loki said as smoothly as he could, hugging himself tighter. “And my opinion is I’d like my clothes back. If you please.”  
The woman shook her head. “Sorry, but we found you like this. One thing about the void: it’s not exactly kind to textiles, even Asgardian ones.”

His spinning mind slowed just enough to latch on to several things she had said. “How do you know—” 

“That you’re a Jotun? From Asgard? And that you threw yourself into the void rather than face an unpleasant situation?” The woman smiled, revealing two rows of even, but unusually sharp teeth. “Oh, I know all about you, Loki Odinson. Word travels faster through the universe than even Asgard knows.” 

Loki sucked in a breath, trying to calm his pulse. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t believe I’ve the pleasure of knowing your name.”

The left corner of her mouth raised in a smile that might have been attractive, under circumstances that were anywhere approaching normal. “Captain Reva Raskarian—ma’am to you.”

He could work with that. “And…where might we be, ma’am?”

“Why, the _Hypernicum_ , of course.”

“Ah.” Loki shifted his legs an inch to the right, wishing the circular bed beneath him had a duvet he could cover up with. “And the Hypernicum would be what, exactly? Your ship? Your home base?”

“You ask a lot of questions, Jotun. If you want answers, you really should give me something in return.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of presents right now.”

“Oh, I disagree. You could move your hands away to start.”

Loki sucked his lower lip into his mouth. _Walked right into that one._

“Mhm, shy, then,” Raskarian said when he didn’t move. “Very well. Perhaps you’ll gain a little more confidence when you get hungry.”

When she turned her back, Loki was ready. As he sprung off the bed to summon his blades, two things happened at once: his right leg jerked backward as if a manacle about it had pulled taut and he crashed to the floor on hands and knees.

Oh, and his blades didn’t appear either, which went far beyond aggravating into disconcerting.

Raskarian turned and tsked, shaking one long, crimson finger. “I nearly forgot to tell you. Your magic is useless here.” She swept her arm upward and Loki’s gaze followed the   
gesture to a succession of glowing sigils that ringed the room along what he supposed passed for its wainscoting. 

“Some technology surpasses even Asgard’s powers,” she added when Loki turned a blank expression on her. “Think about it, Jotun, and get back to me.”  
With another wave of her hand, she vanished, leaving behind a faint hint of camphor. 

“Wait, how do I—” Loki looked around the room. “—call you,” he finished his voice descending to an irritated murmur.

“Well,” he said as he sat up and leaned back against the bed. “Once again, fuck my life.”

No matter how he tried to wriggle his leg, the invisible manacle seemed to remain, preventing him from moving more than a few feet from the bed. When he finally returned to it, Loki tucked his knees up against his chest and laced his fingers around them.

Something squished against his knees that shouldn’t have. Wincing, Loki hesitated before glancing down at his blue skin.

_Those…weren’t there before._

His pectorals had been as flat as his palm the last he checked. Now, however, they were rounded slightly, not enough to fill his hand, but enough to make a worthy attempt.   
Cold that had nothing to do with the room rippled through his skin as another fact occurred to him. When he’d covered himself from Raskarian’s sight, he’d felt something that shouldn’t have been there.

Loki inched his feet down to the floor and parted his thighs.

At first touch, everything seemed normal. The tackle was there, but where was the bait? As he searched for his balls, Loki’s fingers found the wet, bare slit beneath his cock instead.

Had falling through the void changed him so drastically? Loki quelled the laugh that shot up his throat.

_Think about this. Logically. Calmly. Why in the nine realms would it?_

Loki leaned back on his hands to ponder. Either the void or the sigils lining his prison had removed the magic concealing his Asgardian appearance. Could this have been—  
He knew precious little about Jotuns, including about their anatomy—after all, he hadn’t been exactly interested in peeking under any of their kilts the last time he was in the neighborhood. The fact he hadn’t seen any visibly female warriors among Laufey’s army didn’t mean much at the time. Now, however, he wondered if they, including Laufey himself, all had the same configuration.

“Damn you, Father,” Loki growled. “Just one more little fact that would have been _oh_ so helpful to know.”

This discovery felt like it changed everything, and at the same time, it didn’t. He’d had plenty of offers over the centuries from men and women both, probably all more eager to bed Loki the prince of Asgard and brag about it than they had been to bed Loki the person. Yet he’d never been interested in a one. His own hand had been enough, and his thoughts—

Ah, but they were merely born out of envy and anger, he decided as he lay back. Imagining Thor on his knees in chains, or even imagining him spread out beneath him—well, sometimes intense hatred could feel a bit like intense lust, couldn’t it?

His dick twitched as if in disagreement.

“Wonderful. Just what I need now. Shut up,” he told it. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Loki lay back on the bed and placed a hand over his stomach, which also felt a bit rounder than when he’d touched it last. He smoothed his palm across it, wondering what was responsible for that. If it could be…

#

“Mother?”

“Yes, Loki?”

It was kind of an embarrassing question. Not that he was ever embarrassed about anything. Loki kicked his foot against the shiny stone floor as he tried to figure out how to phrase it, though. He knew where babies came from and all. He wasn’t _stupid_. But this wasn’t exactly about that. Maybe.

“Go on,” Frigga encouraged. “You can talk to me about anything.”

His shoulders inched down from his ears. How did his mother always seem to know what he was thinking? “It’s just… all the ladies have this little bulge on their tummies, but men don’t. Especially warriors. Why? Is it because they can have babies but men can’t?”

His mother put her book aside and slid off the divan to kneel at eye level as she took Loki’s hand. “That’s a very clever thought, Loki, but I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re a very clever boy.”

 _Cleverer than Thor_ , Loki thought with pride. But even at that age, he knew better than to say such things. “Well, is it?”

“Yes, son. It’s there because of what we have beneath that helps the baby grow.”

#

“That helps the baby grow,” Loki repeated, continuing to caress his stomach. “Hm.”

He’d never wanted to lie with another, but that hadn’t meant he didn’t think about children. Only, one didn’t get children without lying with a woman, and he’d never had any particular interest in fathering them.

But the thought of carrying a child had always appealed. Strongly. And futilely. It had been too upsetting, too strange, too _frustrating_ to deal with. So he had shoved it aside whenever it had occurred. Except, of course, for when he’d dreamed of them and lain awake for hours after, wondering why the sweet smell of their skin, the softness of their hair, and the squeeze of a chubby hand around his index finger had felt so real, so _urgent_.

“Perhaps now I know.” 

Once again, he pushed the thought away. Whatever this roundness concealed, unless it had the power to shatter those runes, it wouldn’t get him out of here. And even if it could, what Asgardian would be interested in getting children upon—

_STOP. You can be miserable later. Think now. How do you get out of here?_

Loki looked around the room with its lack of ingress, then stared back up at the silent stars.

“I’m working on that,” he told himself.


End file.
